I Could Use A Hero
by insanitys.cowgirl
Summary: Well...a warning, there is a bit of rape at the beginning. Let's just say Iggy could really use a hero.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning here and now, there is a bit of rape. So…yeah. That is all I have to say. Oh, no, wait, I do not own Hetalia (as if I need to tell you that, you know). Ok, enjoy! All reviews-even flames-are welcome and appreciated!**

"America." England began to cry as his pants were torn off of him by the French pervert who had him tied to a head board.

"America." He whimpered again as he tugged at his bonds.

"'e is not coming, Angleterre." The Frenchman purred, nuzzling against his captive's neck. "It iz just you and me for ze evening. Romantic, no?" England scoffed and fliched away from France's touch.

"Let me go you wanker." The green eyed man demanded.

"Non. You are mine now, Angleterre. Deal with it." So saying Frace ripped of England's boxers and roughly shoved two fingers into England's rear end. England began to cry again, forgoing pride.

"Stop Francis, this is wrong." England begged. "Please. Stop."

"Wrong, you say? But it feels so right." France thrust himself suddenly into England, not even bothering to fully prepare him first.

"AMERICA!" England screamed in pain, wishing the bloody fool would just save him already. But he knew France was right. America would not be coming. England cried harder, screaming every time Frace thrust roughly into him.

"Ah, Angleterre. So tight..." Frace moaned. At least someone was having fun. England whimpered America's name again. He knew it was pathetic, but he really wanted the larger nation by his side. He was supposed to be a hero, wasn't he? Then he should be here. He should save him and comfort him and take away the massive amounts of pain. But he wasn't here. He wouldn't be here. England broke down completely at the thought.

A sudden crash filled the room and both the captor and his captive glanced up to see what had happened. A big black boot had sent the locked bedroom door to pieces and America stormed through the broken frame, glaring like the devil when he saw England, looking like a scared animal, bound and obviously in pain. Without saying a word the suddenly serious young nation stomped over to the bed and grabbed France by the throat, flinging him back into the wall.

"America. What are you doing 'ere?" France demanded, frightened but unwilling to give up his prize. America simply glared at him. His aura was almost as dark and scary as Russia's at the moment. "Get out." The Frenchman continued, standing up. "Zis is a private party. Angleterre and I 'ave been having some fun together, right Angleterre?"

"A...america~" England whimpered, still unable to process that the lad was actually there. America's glare darkened several shades at the frightened sound. A leg shot out suddenly and the sound of breaking glass filled the room. One swift kick had sent France plummeting out the second story window and into the rather thorny rose bush below. America turned his attention to the man on the bed. Tears were rolling unstoppably down his cheek.

"Shhhhh dude, it's ok now. The hero is here." America soothed, reaching out a hand to wipe away some of the tears as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Normally England would have found the phrase obnoxious and annoying, but this time it set him at ease. Everything was going to be alright, America would see to that. England sighed and tilted his head gratefully into the touch. He was scared, he was shamed and he was hurting, but the hero was here now. Everything would be ok.

America wanted to cry as he looked England over. The only thing he had on was his loose dress shirt, which was torn and dirty, he had several bruises from the rough treatment, blood trickled from his rear end, tears kept spilling from his eyes and he looked so scared. It broke the big man's heart. America reached up and gently undid the cuffs that held England's hands, scowling at the bruised and bloody chafe marks left behind. Untying the nation's feet, he found his ankles to be in no better condition. America reached out to stroke England's cheek again.

"I'm sorry, England." America looked sadly down at his ex-caretaker. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner. I came over to ask if you wanted to watch a movie and you weren't there, so I waited around for a while, but then I noticed the smell of roses and finally realized what happened when I saw that your car was still there and there were signs of forced entry, and I should have realized sooner, but I didn't and if I had you wouldn't be hurting this bad, so I'm really, really sorry dude." America seemed to say all that in just one breath. England looked up into the younger nation's eyes, and was shocked at how much misery and self hatred they contained.

"It's not your fault." England said. "It's that bloody frog France's fault, not yours. I'm surprised you're even here. And that's more than I expected. You saved me, and that's what matters." America nodded sadly.

"Alright, dude, if you say so." America ran a hand through England's hair.

"I do. Now...if you don't mind...could you...take me home?" England asked hesitantly.

"No problem." America slipped one hand behind the smaller man's back, helping him to sit up. He slid off his bomber jacket and wrapped it securely around England's shoulders. England smiled, touched by the action for some reason. Then again, the jacket meant a lot to America and the fact that he was letting England wear it meant that maybe England meant a lot to him as well. England pulled the jacket around himself more tightly, then wound his arms around America's neck as he let himself be picked up bridal style. America picked him up slowly, carefully, hoping to avoid causing England any more pain than he had to. England still hissed a little in pain, but relaxed into the gentle hold. He snuggled into America's shoulder, his fingers curling into the other man's shirt as he was carried. His tears finally began to subside as he felt those strong arms around him. He was safe. For sure. America looked down at him a smiled softly, the look of affection warming England to the core of his being. Then, rather suddenly, a scratched and bruised France stumbled through the door in front of them.

"Francis." America growled. France looked up, terrified, as he received another dark glare. "Francis, I want you to listen and listen really well." Francis nodded. "If you ever lay a hand on England again, I will personally see to it that your demise is slow and painful." Francis nodded again, moving out of the way as America strode through the door and out into the night. He settled England into the passenger seat of his rental car, before racing around to the other side and starting it up. England curled himself up into a little ball facing America, pulling the bomber jacket as close around him as he could get it, watching the man drive. One hand left the wheel to rest on top of both of England's, thumbs tracing comforting circles across them. England sighed and relaxed. They drove in silence until they finally reached England's house. America scooped the Brit up once again, still being as careful as he could. England winced a little, but held back his tears so as not to upset his hero. America somehow managed to open and close the front door without jostling England around a whole lot, much to the Englishman's delight, and carried him upstairs to the master bedroom.

He continued on into the bathroom and turned on the water to draw England a bath. England watched the bath fill happily, and America added some soothing oils and baths salts. England hung the jacket on one of the many clothes hooks, but tossed the ruined shirt aside. He sunk into the water thankfully and gave a happy sigh his eyes drifting closed contentedly. America turned the water off only when it threatened to spill out onto the floor. He gave one last ruffle to England's hair before heading towards the door.

"America?" England asked after him. America looked over his shoulder and smiled.

"Don't worry dude, I'll be right back." America was gone before England could protest. That safe feeling left the Island nation and he began to tremble as he waited for his hero to return.

"Dude, sorry I left." America apologized as he returned and caught sight of the shaking Brit. "But I thought you might like some tea." America knelt down beside the tub and wrapped one arm around England's shoulders, handing him the steaming cup. England smiled at America's gesture, and took a sip of the tea, finding it just right. It really hit the spot. America did not remove his arm until he was needed to get England some clothes. England sat on the edge of the tub, tussling his hair dry and awaited America's return. He took the clothes with a muttered thank you, and dressed himself. England was not at all surprised as America picked him up once more, carrying him into the bedroom and settling him down beneath the covers.

"G'night dude." America trailed his fingers down England's cheek one last time before moving to go sleep on the couch. England reached out immediately and latched onto America's shirt tail.

"Don't leave me." England whined, patting the bed beside himself, motioning for America to sleep there. America looked down at him for a moment, before toeing off his shoes and socks.

"Ok, dude. If you want, I'll stay." America smiled, removing his glasses and settled down next to England.

"Thank you." England sighed, cuddling up the American as those strong arms wound around him once more; one tightly around his waist, the other underneath his head as a pillow.

"Sleep well dude." America said into England's hair. "I love you Arthur." The words were shocking to the Brit, but the response was natural.

"I love you too...Alfred" England choked out as he drifted out to sleep listening to the soothing rhythm of America's heart.


	2. Prologue

**So, this wasn't written by me, this was written by my current favorite internet person pikaace! Thank you so much! I really love this and I'm honored you felt my story deserved a prologue. So, without any further ado, ladies and gentlemen, pikaace's prologue to I Could Use a Hero:**

England sighed in relief as he sat down in his chair with his cup of tea. He had just gotten back from a rather hectic World Meeting and now he could finally relax. He had taken off his necktie leaving his dress shirt and pants. He had just taken a sip when a knock was heard at the door. England growled, put down his tea and went to the door. He just hoped it wasn't America wanting to show him something stupid again. He opened the door to reveal France; he immediately took back his previous thought. He would much rather see America than that perverted frog of all people. The Frenchman had been keeping an uncomfortably close eye on him lately, and England was getting fed up with it.

"What do you want, frog?" he asked harshly. France smirked and walked into the house.

"Is zis 'ow you greet all your guests Angleterre?" he asked.

"Only you, you wine-lover; now what do you want?" England asked again.

France chuckled, "Isn't it obvious?" he walked towards the unsuspecting Brit and closed the door, confining him to the space between his arms in the process, "I want you."

England's eyes widened at this; he knew where this was going and he let out a small yelp as he felt France's hand creep up his leg. He pushed the nation away and yanked the door open again.

"If you bloody think I'm going to let you have your way with me you're even more perverted then I thought! Now get the bloody hell out of my house!" he shoved France out the door and slammed it behind him. France, on the other side of the door simply smiled.

"If zat's 'ow you want to play, I'll play along." He walked to his car and pulled out a crowbar and a small bag containing supplies before approaching the door again. England was about to go back to his tea, when he heard his door creak. The sound was soon followed by a cracking noise as the door flew open with a few wooden splinters scattering about. Before England could say a word, France strode over and grabbed his wrist attempting to pull him out the door. England responded instinctively by punching France in the stomach with his free hand. France released England who tried to punch him again, but France managed to recover in time to punch England first. England bumped into the table causing his teacup to shatter on the floor. France continued to punch him so fast that the Brit couldn't defend himself or retaliate. Eventually, France managed to slam England's head onto the table causing the nation to see stars. England fell to the ground dazed, while France took some thick rope out of the small bag he had brought in. He tied England's wrists together tightly behind him and pulled him to his feet. France dragged the still sluggish nation out of his house causing his clothes to get a bit dirty, shut the door, and loaded him into the back seat of his car. France started up the car and in about ten minutes they arrived at France's house.

By the time France had dragged him into the living room, England had come to his senses. England struggled fiercely but France slapped a piece of silver duct tape over his mouth before he could say anything. England was then dragged up the stairs and was bumped this way and that. England could feel bruises forming on his arms. Eventually, France opened the door to his master bedroom and placed England on the bed. France then began to untie his wrists. England tried to use that chance to get free, but France was too quick. He pinned England's wrists above him before retying the ropes around them to the headboard. France then took a little more rope and bound England's ankles to the bed. England yanked at his bonds causing the ropes to rub his bare skin. The ropes were so rough that in no time he had drawn blood. He winced as France tore the tape off his mouth and climbed onto the bed so he was hovering over England. Now England was starting to get scared; was France really going to go through with this? France's hands slowly made their way under his shirt and to his bare chest. England tried to get away, but his bonds restricted him and caused him to draw more blood from his already raw wrists and ankles. England's eyes grew wide as his lips met the Frenchman's, his tongue doing a thorough exploration. When they finally broke away, England took a shaky breath.

"Let me go this instant you frog-eater! You won't get away with something like this!" he yelled, fear still tugging at his heart.

"Scream all you want, no one can 'ear you," France said slyly.

"Someone will come for me!" England said a bit shakily.

France laughed, "Really, who? Zat idiot America? 'e doesn't care about you; face it, 'e never 'as. No one does."

"T-that's not true!" England protested, but France came closer to him.

"Non zey do not, especially America. 'e is not coming mon cherie; no one is coming," he whispered. Tears of fear and doubt came to England's eyes as France's hands made their way to his pants, "No Francis…please don't…" England pleaded.

"I'm sure you will enjoy zis mon petite lapin," France said as he removed his own pants before moving to England's.

America happily slammed the door of Britain's house open.

"HEY ENGLAND! WANNA WATCH A MOVIE WITH ME?" he yelled with a big smile on his face. The young nation was immediately met with silence. That's strange; England usually comes straight home after meetings. America had just got this new movie called 'The Ring' and looked pretty cool. It was said to involve ghosts so America didn't want to watch it alone, especially at night. America shrugged and figured that his ex-brother was out shopping or something; the old man had probably run out of tea or something. America plopped down on the couch and sat around for a bit until a familiar smell tickled his nose. It smelled like roses; was France here before? America then noticed the wood splinters on the ground near the door. America knelt on the ground and discovered that the wood had come from the door. That explained how America was able to open the door easier than usual. A glint of metal caught America's eye; it was a crowbar. America picked it up and checked England's driveway. To his horror, England's car was still there. Now feeling very frightened, America examined the house more until he found what he hoped he wouldn't find. England's tea cup was shattered on the ground with the tea all over the floor. America's head snapped up as everything made sense; the crowbar, the tea, the roses. America had noticed France's constant attention to England, but he never knew he would go that far! Anger and fear boiled inside America as he bolted out the door and jumped into his car. He zoomed down the street until he arrived at France's house in less than five minutes. He had just gotten out of the car when he heard a familiar voice coming from the top window.

"AMERICA!" It was England, and America had lived with him long enough as a colony to know when he needed help or not. America broke down the front door with his shoulder and bolted up the stairs. He could hear England's cries of pain as he flew down the hallway until he came to the bedroom door. He kicked it open, but was not prepared at all for what he saw.

**By the way, pikacce, the only thing I did to it was sort it out into proper paragraphs. Otherwise it was really good and well written!**


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